


A Preconceived Idea of What It All Meant

by NightsLikeThis



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: College, Cute, F/F, Fluff and Angst, all four of them, based on a tik tok, they're dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsLikeThis/pseuds/NightsLikeThis
Summary: Hi and also hello...This fic is based on a Tik tok (I don’t really fuck with tik tok and I wanted that to be known...I saw this on Instagram...) anyway here’s the link...https://www.instagram.com/p/B5cMeo1lmSy/?igshid=p9nsqi2k78dhWell loosely based on...you dont need to watch it to understandAnyway I saw this and was like “that’s a fic waiting to happen who better to write it than me?”“Literally anyone else” my poor self esteem answered but alas I wrote it anyway...Title from Same Love by Macklemore
Relationships: Sasha Banks/Bayley | Davina Rose
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33





	A Preconceived Idea of What It All Meant

College could be a tumultuous time, a time of fresh books, and blank pages ready to be filled. A space made for change and the promise of nothing lasting forever. 

But for the group of four, it was also a place to remind them of what and who couldn’t be forgotten or left behind, a certain definition of family between Bayley, Sasha, Charlotte and Becky.

Bayley and Sasha had attended the same college, a decision that came in the form of sharing similar interests, similar goals, and although their majors had some common ground, they didn’t share more than a class or two from freshman year to now, in their 3rd year. Charlotte chose a longer commute, a slightly worse business program, but a chance to play division 1 volleyball. Becky decided to forego college, deciding 6 years of American standardized tests were enough for her brain, taking a paid internship in a Dietician’s office.

The point is they were all busy: too busy to see each other as much as they had in highschool. It was a steep learning curve at first: learning how to get through class without the promise of Charlotte’s meticulous notes if one of them had missed something, breathing through tough tests without study buddies, no permanent shoulders to cry on, Becky wasn’t always there to rub Charlotte’s feet after a particularly rough game, Bayley’s schedule didn’t always allow her to find Sasha on campus to get lunch together, they each suffered through the day without Becky’s uplifting puns, Charlotte’s caring eyes, Bayley’s kind smile, Sasha’s contagious laugh.

But there was always a time for coming back together, a weekly ritual of hanging out every Saturday night where Charlotte, Bayley, and Sasha had no classes the next day, and Becky had the day off. It sat perfectly as something to look forward to at the end of the week, like coming home, a rebirth in knowing who you are and that your friends are right here, close enough to lift you up through whatever the week had drained you of.

An escape into a place that’s just the four of them, no inhibitions or insecurities. Just driving around in the dark in Bayley’s car, listening to a playlist Sasha had made when they’d started their weekly tradition, a practice of adding new music every time a song would make her think of them. 

Charlotte and her motherly nature, Becky and the softness she only lets them see, Bayley and…

Bayley and everything. 

Bayley and the way she held Sasha when she thought she’d flunk out of school, the way she’d made her smile in times of feeling unworthy, the way she took care of her, brought her coffee during midterms week even as she herself was falling apart, waits another hour for Sasha to get out of her last class so she doesn’t have to wait for the bus in the rain, makes Sasha light up with all the things she wants to be.

But Sasha has to push those thoughts down, let them drive around until Bayley finds a spot to park where they can just hang out. She usually stops in their highschool parking lot, a reminder of how simple things had seemed when Sasha was kissing boys instead of falling for her best friend. She lets the thoughts linger only enough to entertain doing something stupid like telling all 3 of them at once, losing her best friends to the guiding light in her heart.

She’s glad of their usual seats on these nights, the distance between their houses making the most logical sense to pick up Sasha last: ensuring almost 100% that she won’t have to take the passenger seat, won’t have to sit next to Bayley where Becky and Charlotte can watch her, can see the love that she tries so hard to hide. 

So it’s Charlotte upfront taking shotgun, with Sasha behind her, the perfect angle to worship Bayley’s jaw line, but the worst for keeping her mouth shut, leaving Becky behind Bayley.

Sasha has to be grateful that it always works out this way, always allows her to have her bouts of inner turmoil without anyone seeing.

But it’s thinking too deeply that gets Sasha in trouble, because Becky has concocted this “game” by the time Bayley’s throwing the car in park. So she agrees to play, catching Bayley’s hopeful eyes in the rear view mirror, before she even knows what the rules are.

“What are we doing?” Sasha asks, trying to clarify, hoping to sound more confused, than like she’s simply not been listening.

“It’s like musical chairs!” Becky claims excitedly trying to make it sound simple to Sasha’s dense brain.

“Not really, Becks” Charlotte corrects softly, laughing at the glee in Becky’s poor attempt at an explanation.

“We pick a song with a beat drop, and we go in a circle taking turns pointing to the next person in the circle-” Charlotte starts to explain more fully, this time with Sasha’s rapt attention.

“And whoever’s being pointed at when the beat drops has to call their crush and tell him” Becky cuts her off, finishing the thought excitedly.

“Sounds kinda dumb” Bayley says, uncharacteristically detached.

“What? Bay? C’mon it’ll be fun!” Becky tries, not fully giving up on her idea, reaching around the front seat to grab hold of Bayley’s shoulder, physically shake out whatevers making her a party pooper. “Maybe Char will finally tell Andrade how she feels or Sasha will finally bone that guy in her anatomy class” the red head adds as potential outcomes hoping to spur her on.

But the words do well in pushing bile into Sasha’s throat. Because truth be told there was no “guy in her anatomy class” that she liked, it was just a white lie she’d pushed out a few times so they wouldn’t get suspicious.

Bayley hesitates, and Sasha hopes for a second that it’s because Bayley likes her back, doesn’t think Sasha wants her. But the hope is lost when Bayley explains her hesitation.

“What if I don’t have a crush?” Bayley asserts, turning her body now to fully face Charlotte, craning her neck to speak to Becky face to face, seeming to gloss over Sasha for the moment. 

Sasha isn’t sure what’s worse, the way Bayley doesn’t leave her with even a fleeting glance, or the harsh reality that Bayley doesn’t like her back.

But there isn’t time to contemplate the canyon suddenly carved into her heart, because Becky is pursing her lips in thought before giving Bayley a new opportunity.

“Okay, if it lands on you, you have to call your mom and tell her you’re pregnant” Becky offers as a stand in rule. Bayley mulls it over for a second, a silence that makes Sasha think Bayley will deny the request once more, but then there’s steadfast acceptance in dark brown irises and Bayley’s nodding slightly.

“Deal” 

“Lit!” Becky momentarily celebrates before getting back to the task at hand, “Uh. DJ Banks, can you pick a song?” she asks hoping to start the game before anyone else can question its validity. 

Sasha opens the playlist on cue, her brain swirling with ways to get out of this.

Pretend her phone died?

Fake her own death?

But the fight or flight that ripples through her skin is combated by the feeling of Bayley’s eyes boring into the side of her face as she scrolls down through spotify looking for a song.

Her finger finds Can We Kiss Forever? By Kina before her mind can put a stop to it.

The notes rush in, filling the space inside Bayley’s Nissan Rogue, loud enough for Sasha to feel the vibration of it through the speakers. And just as the second note comes in Becky starts the cycle of pointing to Bayley, who points to Charlotte, and finally Sasha before the process repeats to the pace of the song.

There’s a shiver that grates against Sasha’s spine as the first verse floats over them and they wait for the inevitable beat to drop, but she tries to steady herself, crush the fear into small enough bits to swallow without chewing.

But time isn’t on her side, the seconds that have created every minute of her existence sinking further into her purpose, all leading here, to the unknown moment that she’d be put in such a situation.

Because Charlotte takes her turn in pointing to Sasha in time with the song just as the beat comes in. And its definitive, no accident, no almost someone else, like the universe had determined her fate long before she chose a song, long before she hit play. 

The realization of what’s occured comes crashing in waves just as the rippling beats continue against her ear, cause enough trauma to force the blue haired girl to curl in on herself, bring up her hands to cover her face, in some primal effort to hide, to disappear into herself, wake up from this nightmare.

But instead of waking up in her bed, she hears someone turn down the music, the sound of Charlotte’s joyous laugh, the feeling of Becky poking her bicep with the words “C’mon, how long have you wanted to do this?” falling from her lips, followed by the soft coaxing of Charlotte voicing “Just call him”.

And she removes her hands from her face finally, hoping to find eyes that didn’t seem forceful, that didn’t make this real, but the first thing she sees are Bayley’s eyes staring back at her, an expression of wonder and sadness that Sasha can read readily.

But the eye contact hurts more than helps, forces her brain into a new path of thought where telling the truth seems like the only option, because honesty has always been their assumed mode of operation, and she couldn’t just call a “crush” that didn’t exist. 

There’s no room for hesitation against the fierce press of Charlotte’s and Becky’s faces looking ready for Sasha to fulfill her task, wide eyes that wait not so patiently for her to give in to the consequences of losing Becky’s little game.

“Okay, fine. I’ll do it” Sasha finally gives in, a breath escaping her as the excitement in Becky seems to skyrocket, the girl bounces enough to make the whole car shake.

Sasha takes another deep breath before taking her phone between her shaky hands and opening her contacts, she scrolls in silence as the other occupants of the vehicle remain quiet, writhing in their uncontained anticipation. She keeps her phone at an angle that only allow her eyes to view the screen, but not parallel enough to the windows for Becky to catch any details in the reflection of light.

Sasha hits call and holds her breath, pressing the phone against her ear and sealing her own fate out loud. She knows it’s too late to turn back as she looks up into Bayley’s eyes and waits for the turmoil to break free alongside the torture she’d elected for herself.

The sound of Bayley’s ringtone fills the car a few seconds later, the sound of Hard Times by Paramore surprising all of them, the noise prompting Bayley to break their eye contact long enough to look down at her phone and confirm that it had been Sasha calling her. 

But of course they think it’s some joke, a way for Sasha to chicken out of the dare, a prolonging of time before she has to face the music.

“Sash” Charlotte is calling, sounding put off enough to hear her eye roll.

“You’re calling me” Bayley points out like it isn’t obvious, like Sasha had made a mistake in choosing her name out of her contact list.

And Becky is looking uncharacteristically small, like she’d just realized the weight of it all, like she was the only one other than Sasha to understand how serious Sasha was being with her call. There’s guilt in her eyes as she looks back and forth between her three friends, waiting for reality to hit Bayley and Charlotte, waiting for Sasha to go back on her decision.

But there’s stale air for a moment before Sasha is making a show of pulling her phone away from her ear and ending the call before letting it go to voicemail. There’s a shuddered crack to the first syllable of her words, but there’s enough conviction out of the small, but fierce girl for her friends to never question it again.

“Yeah, I’m gay” 

There’s quiet after Sasha let’s out three words that she can’t erase from her friends’ memory. Sasha ducks away from prying eyes, from potential judgement, from inevitable scorn.

“Sorry” is the next word that finds the air, unpredictably from the Irish woman, “I wasn’t tryna force anything on you” Becky tries to explain, hoping Sasha knows this wasn’t a planned attack, or a ploy intended to end in confession.

“It was just a stupid game, Becky. It’s fine.” Sasha tries to convince herself, “I chose to say it, not you” she tries her best to clear the awkward air, but it leaves her feeling worse, like her words had punished Becky more than they liberated her.

Bayley remains silent, in a void where only Sasha exists, but Sasha doesn’t see the plain devotion, too concentrated on keeping her gaze steady on concrete outside the backseat window. 

Charlotte clears her throat, a prominent husk coming in amongst the dense air surrounding them.

“I don’t mean to speak for all of us, but” the blonde starts tentatively, “I think we’re all a little shocked, obviously we still love you” 

“Yeah” Becky rides off the end of her words, “as long as you’re happy we’re happy” 

Sasha looks up, searching for Charlotte’s blue irises hoping to avoid finding dark brown ones for the time being. She isn’t sure whether to be happy that they’re focusing on her coming out over the confession of her feelings for Bayley, but the press of no words out of Bayley’s mouth is almost easier.

Easier than rejection, easier than Bayley letting her down easy, easier than knowing for sure.

Sasha scans her eyes the other way, finding Becky there surging forward into her personal space to pull her close. It does a good job of making Sasha feel loved, let’s go of the pain in not knowing how her friends would react to her truth, knowing for certain that nothing could take away the nurturing care in Charlotte always knowing what to say, the underlying softness of Becky knowing when to shut up and pull Sasha into her arms. 

The press of Becky against her feels steady enough to push into, firm enough to stay there forever, tucked against the redhead’s chest. She settles there long enough for tears to fall from her eyes, for rivers to open up against the fabric of Becky’s shirt, for Sasha to start to feel embarrassed about the trauma session she’d made out of their weekly hangout. 

The sobs find the air in deep pushes that echo against Becky’s collarbone before reaching Charlotte and Bayley’s ears, a sense of urgency in the way the pain escapes her lungs, like she’d been waiting to breathe normally for a long time, like she’s finally felt free of the chains that come with filtering her soul to the people she loves most.

Sasha cries for the person she was before, the girl who was too scared of change, she cries for the truth, and the lack of choice in turning back. It’s easy to get lost in it: the feel of Becky’s strong arms around her, the cold tears that drain her of hydration, the darkness behind her eyelids, the lack of response from Bayley.

But she still hears the unmistakable sound of a car door opening and closing. Still knows that something has changed, that someone is missing. It feels cold in Becky’s arms, the steadiness gone. 

Unbeknownst to Sasha, Becky looks lost too, looks into Charlotte’s eyes hoping she has an answer for Bayley’s departure, but the answer comes without much time to contemplate where this leaves them: without someone to drive them home, without someone to make them laugh when things seemed otherwise hopeless, without Bayley.

Because the door beside Sasha opens from the outside a moment later, the sound clicking into Sasha’s mind without a full understanding until arms come around her from behind.

Bayley.

Sasha knows her warmth, the weight of her hands on Sasha’s shoulders, a gift in the way Bayley never saves any comfort for herself, gives every morsel of good in the transfer, never letting anything flood back into her, giving and giving until there’s nothing left to take.

Bayley rubs Sasha’s back, pressing her face close to the back of Sasha’s head, whispering soft words that Charlotte and Becky can’t hear, but they seem to create the correct paths in Sasha’s head, seem to light fire to all the things to be happy about.

It’s a curved slope that brings them there, but eventually Sasha’s eyes start to clear and her cheeks start to dry.

Sasha can feel the unspoken support in Bayley’s fingers running through blue strands, in the calming breath that hits the shell of her ear, the whispers of “You’re okay” and “We’re here”

“Sorry” comes the soft sniffle from Sasha’s mouth, her first words since her impromptu breakdown, “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood” she chuckles at the contrast in how heavy she’d felt before crying, and how light she felt now, as she brushes away the collected tears from under her eyes. 

“It’s fine, Sash” Charlotte’s words come in, making up for the lack of physical contact between her and Sasha.

“Can we just play another game, or listen to some music? Like can we pretend I didn’t just sob uncontrollably for several minutes?” Sasha asks, smiling up at Becky, hoping the showing of teeth is enough to forget the puddle soaked through the front of Becky’s shirt, the fact that the driver’s seat is vacant.

Charlotte turns the radio back on only after taking over the aux, playing something they all like, a pop hit that doesn’t open new doors for them, no beat drop. Bayley moves out of Sasha’s personal space and takes her warmth with her; a piece of positivity stays clung to the inside of Sasha’s heart in the wake of the movement.

Bayley gets back into the front seat, a question then of whether she’d ever really moved from there or if Sasha had imagined it. There’s a final look back, a chance for Bayley to find Sasha’s eyes and for it to feel out of place, where maybe Bayley is rethinking her actions, remembering that not only is Sasha into girls, but now she’s into her. And Sasha can’t let the chance take root, can’t cry again or spare the damp leaves anymore water. 

So she smiles at Bayley like she’s only seeing the parts of her that accepted her sexuality, the parts of her that only make her think of friendship; not the parts that make her think of loving her, but it only gets harder to separate as the middle section of the Venn diagram swells everyday.

And things shift back to normal, as normal as it can be in Sasha’s internal spiral, feeling ashamed that she can’t be completely happy after their positive reaction. 

Charlotte shuffles through a “today’s top hits” playlist, Becky instigates a new game that doesn’t require calling crushes or breaking any walls, just a challenge in making each other laugh. 

For the moment Sasha gets lost in the ease of it, the way it slings back into the ideal of Bayley making silly faces, Becky shouting childish puns, Charlotte pretending to be above it all, clenching her teeth to stop potential smiles from escaping, and Sasha losing easily, filling the car with a certain burst of laughter until the contagious lilts find all of their lungs.

And it continues on that way, silly conversations about Sasha’s quirky Biology professor, complaint filled rants about people Becky encounters at work, Charlotte explaining her plans for a class project, Bayley offering jokes and pieces of advice. An ease in the back and forth of information that sways between old friends. A course of leaning into each other further and learning new memories of friendship, embedding the information as important in all of their brains.

It’s not long before Charlotte’s dozing off, a common trope for the blonde and her overachieving mentality, too involved in sports and clubs and extracurriculars for the average person, often falling asleep when their hangouts got late.

“Charlie’s asleep” Becky nods toward the sunken form that they’d been speaking to only a few seconds ago. 

Sasha looks over, lowering her voice “let the Queen sleep” 

Bayley sits forward to take off her jacket, placing it over Charlotte’s body as a makeshift blanket. The nurturing pushes Sasha’s heart open further, hoping she’d be the one Bayley would take care of, and it swells her heart to remember all the times Bayley had been there just for the sake of it. 

And quiet voices feed into the incentive for other eyes to drift closed, and soon enough they’re losing their Irishwoman to slumber as well.

Sasha’s heart can’t take the reality of it as she’s confirming Becky’s soft snores, “And then there were two” 

It marks territory where Sasha can’t stray from Bayley’s eyes long enough to keep her mouth shut.

“Sorry, if I made things weird before” Sasha pushes out in a space of silence, because she can’t reign in the parts of her brain that want to elect more turmoil. 

“When did you know?” Bayley tries, instead of finding the words that could feed into Sasha’s insecurities, hoping the question reaches Sasha’s ears on a plain where she understands that Bayley isn’t expecting an answer if Sasha doesn’t want to give one.

_That I liked you?_ Sasha wants to confirm the full intention of the question before answering, but she knows the probable cause of Bayley’s curiousity pulls from things their ready to discuss.

“That I’m-”

But Bayley nods, her eyes more piercing than before.

Sasha breaths.

“I guess high school, I don’t know, it just became clear that..” Sasha pauses, shakes her head, “the dudes you three were chasing back then weren’t what I was looking for, and then it all started to make sense when I accepted it as a possibility” 

Bayley looks thoroughly invested in the explanation, no judgement coating the lines of her face. But Sasha is used to feeling like she has to overcompensate.

“I mean, I didn’t want to tell you guys-not because I was scared, but- okay I was scared, but I don’t know-” she rambles only for the calm of Bayley’s voice to stop her in her tracks.

“Sasha, It’s okay, you don’t owe me an explanation”

There isn’t a landing strip for the words to find inside Sasha’s brain, creating a rush of silence following the earnest sentiment, because Sasha isn’t sure how to answer being met with so much understanding. 

“It’s just…” Bayley starts, losing her usual confidence.

“Just what?” Sasha voices before her brain can stop her, trying to combat the hope that fills her stomach, threatens to come out of her mouth. 

“I think I like you back” 

“Don’t do that” Sasha pushes out as her defense mechanism, clawing at the part of her brain that makes her believe that Bayley couldn’t possibly be telling the truth, the roots that keep her from breaking her own heart.

“Do what?” Bayley counters quickly, knowing Sasha too well to let her lash out.

Sasha breathes, running the words through her head over before breaking the silence, a calm demand.

“Don’t pretend to-,” she pauses unable to speak of the possible feelings Bayley claims she has, “to make me feel better. It’s okay. I’ll get over it” she tries to say without her voice breaking, but it’s hard to keep her voice steady as the rest of her body shivers, as her eyes well with tears again.

“Sasha-“ the brunette tries to interject, but Sasha cuts her off.

“Look, you don’t need to say that, you always try to make everyone’s life easier than you’re own, but this is not a problem you can help me with, Bayley. It’ll be easier to just rip the band-aid off now, let me down easy, than it would be if you gave me any false hope. So please, just don’t”

There are tears again, silent tracks mark Sasha’s cheeks as the words break the air.

And Bayley wants to do everything in her power to stop them, to tell Sasha the truth. But there’s a part of her that thinks Sasha would never believe her, a part of her that doesn’t want to have this fight right now, especially when Bayley wants to be the last thing that would ever make Sasha cry, especially when Becky and Charlotte are fast asleep right beside them.

So Bayley shuts her mouth. Swallows down her sorrow. And turns back around toward her steering wheel.

“Maybe we should get home” Bayley tries to act like holding back isn’t killing her, but the words come out in a groggy croak, that has her clearing her throat. 

Bayley puts her seatbelt back on, puts the car into drive, and pulls out of the parking lot without another word. 

It’s stays quiet, save for the soft breathing of their sleeping friends. But it rivals the explosion of thought behind Bayley’s eyes, the merry-go-round of contemplation that keeps Sasha reeling.

Bayley takes a different root, a back street that they usually avoid so that the practiced pattern of dropping them off is changed, so Sasha isn’t the first brought home. Instead it’s Charlotte that they’re shaking awake. 

She comes to easily, always assuming her perfect air even half asleep, her posture is good, her hands steady. She pushes out of the car easily, but opens Sasha’s door right after, pulling her blue haired friend into a tight hug, making up for the space between them when Sasha had her breakdown.

“I love you no matter what, kid” Charlotte says as she holds her close, scratching at the back of her head. 

Sasha nods into blonde hair, before pulling away, an acceptance of Charlotte’s inability to let her go.

They wait to make sure Charlotte is safely inside her house before pulling away. Becky and Bayley live closest: really only a couple of blocks, but Bayley turns around, takes an alternate path, getting to Becky’s house before Sasha’s.

It feels like a bad plot, a too big pill resting against her throat at the realization that this isn’t by mistake, that Bayley wants them to be alone.

“Are we almost at school, mom?” Becky jokes referring to the fact that she and Sasha are in the back seat. 

“Almost” Bayley plays back, her laugh sounding normal against the canvas of convolution Bayley has set out for them. 

Becky gets out of the car soon after, a call of “bye mom” and “see ya later, Sash” followed by a wink at the blue haired girl.

Sasha reads too deep into the gesture, thinking Becky knows somehow what Bayley intends, where all of this is going.

“You wanna come sit up front?” Bayley asks.

There’s layers to it, Sasha knows. That Bayley wants her close. That there has to be some ulterior motive. That there’s more than just Bayley asking to ask.

And there isn’t a reason to deny her that doesn’t cross her mind as awkward, that doesn’t seem like steep denial soaked in strange behavior. So Sasha gets out of the car, a split second of contemplating whether or not she should just make a run for it, thinking better of it when she sees just how pitch black the night is, before moving into the passenger seat. 

Sasha checks the time on the dash, 3:22 shining back at her in an orange glow. She takes a moment to contemplate sleeping in tomorrow, wonder how time had moved so quickly. The distraction is long enough for her not to realize that they’ve passed her block, until it’s too late.

“Where are we going?” Sasha questions, wondering what Bayley was thinking when it was already so late, when they’ve already left the conversation with a conclusion.

But Bayley doesn’t answer verbally, just takes her eyes off the road long enough to connect them with Sasha’s, a presence shown in a mix of “don’t worry about it” and “none of your business”.

Before there’s time to demand an answer, Bayley pulls over, and turns off the car.

“C’mon” Bayley demands softly.

“What? No!” Sasha pleads wondering why they’ve stopped by the field adjacent to their public library, wondering why Bayley would want to come back here.

They’d spent the night of their high school prom here. Becky had ditched, saying ball gowns and dancing to crappy pop songs wasn’t her scene. Charlotte had spent the night with her then boyfriend. “We only got to second base” Charlotte relayed the information a few days later, but none of them really believed Charlotte had the will to stop herself.

So, Bayley has stolen a bottle of old vodka from the very back of her parents liquor cabinet, and they’d walked to the field absentmindedly after they’d been dropped home by a friend’s mom. They laid in the grass in their prom dresses and got truly drunk for the first time together.

Sasha had thought about kissing her then, telling her that she loved her with alcohol breath and limp arms, her knees covered in grass stains. But it didn’t happen, just a fleeting hope that added to her inevitable confession. 

But present Sasha doesn’t want to think about all those years ago, when loving Bayley was easier, when she saw her everyday, when she could pretend she was the brunette’s number one priority.

Bayley takes Sasha’s phone out of her hands against her heated protest, before shooting out of the car with the device. And of course, that’s enough to get Sasha moving.

“Bayley give me back my phone, this isn’t funny” Sasha cries, hoping Bayley will understand the stress this location brings her. But there seems to be only freedom in Bayley’s limbs as she runs through the field without a specific destination.

The only goal seems to be avoiding Sasha’s prying hands in an effort to get her phone back. So Sasha chases her, a cat and mouse game that has the dark thoughts emptying out of Sasha’s mind until she’s only thinking of sucking fresh air into her tired lungs as she runs after her friend. 

Bayley laughs loudly at the desperation in Sasha’s speed, a need to get her phone back as if Bayley had any intention of keeping it. 

Bayley trips, well more like throws herself into the ground, still laughing after the impact. She tries to catch Sasha as she moves to tackle her, but Sasha ends up crushing her regardless. Bayley pushes her back up until their both sat up. 

“Here” Bayley offers Sasha back her phone, brushing the strands of hair out of her own face, chuckling to herself as she tries to catch her breath.

“Thanks” Sasha grumbles, making peace with the grass stains she’ll have to clean off the back of her jeans. 

There’s quiet for a while, the sound of crickets, the glow of fireflies, the dull presence of a full moon half behind a cloud. 

“You wanna tell me why we’re here?” Sasha asks, kicking her foot into Bayley’s shin. 

“I knew I was in love with you here” Bayley answers like it’s the easiest thing she’s ever said, “and yes, I’m using the word love because I’m sure about it” 

“Bayley, you said you think you like me a few minutes ago and now you love me, that’s-that doesn’t make sense” Sasha tries again, pushing any actual logic out the window in favor of choosing darkness for herself.

“Yeah. I was scared. I didn’t think you’d believe me if I busted out the L word right away. Plus you said you had a crush on me, I didn’t wanna overwhelm you. I’ve been holding this shit in forever” Bayley tries to explain.

“I remember sitting here, wanting to just tell you so bad how much you meant to me, but you were drunk and I wanted you to remember everything, but-“

“But what?” Sasha asks softly, countering the usual demanding tone, wanting the rest of what Bayley had to say.

“Everytime I tried to tell you, I chickened out”

“We’re both so dumb” comes Sasha’s answer, a sentence that makes Bayley whip her head toward the girl, looking for an explanation.

“We really hopelessly pined after each other for years, all the while the feelings were mutual?” Sasha voices looking for confirmation.

Bayley pauses.

“Fuck! We are dumb!” The brunette agrees.

Sasha laughs, a full belly laugh at the way it all dawns on Bayley, a wave of sea salt and seaweed crashing over her until she’s choking on the impact. She laughs full force, clutching her stomach and rolling onto her side. 

Bayley follows her down, finding Sasha’s eyes as her laughter dies down. She brushes blue strands out of Sasha’s eyes, her other hand finding a home against Sasha’s hip.

The smaller girl moves closer, pressing her hands against Bayley’s collarbones, until their noses are brushing. 

Bayley surges forward first, breaking the moment of deep eye contact, no more waiting for someone to make a move. Their lips connect in short passionate bursts, a place for Sasha to finally put all the pent up pain, a press where Bayley can feel all the things she’d pushed down and thrown away. 

It feels like coming home from the beach, washing the salt and sunscreen from skin, shivering against the cool stream of water hitting sun soaked skin, a calm contrast to the heavy pulls of ocean waves. It feels like finding sleep after a long day of running on hot sand, and trying to stay afloat.

When they finally pull away, Bayley snuggles closer, pushing her face into the crook of Sasha’s neck and finding a good place to rest her head against Sasha’s chest. 

“I love you” Bayley whispers, and hopes Sasha takes it as the truth, hopes the words cut through the static that has clouded her brain for so long, hopes it gets replaced with new brain matter, enough truth to force Sasha to believe it.

Sasha kisses Bayley’s temple, knowing that deep breaths are necessary to know she isn’t dreaming. A surge of warmth finding shelter inside her heart, a place for seeds to be planted, and vines to take root. It doesn’t feel calculated for once, like an ideal where Sasha isn’t holding back, where Bayley isn’t waiting. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Sasha starts, rubbing at Bayley’s shoulders, not caring about the dirt settling into her exposed skin and hair, not caring about anything, but the girl in her arms, “but thank god for Becky’s stupid game” 

Bayley laughs into Sasha’s chest, muffled by the close proximity. The sounds die down again. Only the hushed sounds of content breathing.

“I love you too” Sasha breaths out like a practiced confession. The weight of a lifetime drifting off her shoulders like bricks suddenly transformed into helium balloons. 

Bayley only holds on tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Uma and I have been discussing...and i was adamant that I write it...but when I went to actually write it a few days later I went back and watched it again...and then ended up texting her a long rant at 2:30 am and I just thought y’all needed an inside look at my dumb ramblings so..
> 
> “Wait sis  
> I’m writing the *calls crush* “yeah I’m gay-“ FIC  
> And I was doing “research”  
> So the game was staged like they weren’t really planning on calling an actual crush, just somebody that they could easily be like “nah we were joking it was for a video” but when it landed on her sis just decided to come out to them which wasn’t planned  
> But also she claims that she doesn’t actually have a crush on the friend that she called...that she just used it as a clear indication that she likes girls  
> Anyway my point is I feel like I’ve ruined the illusion  
> But imma still write it the way I want  
> But also  
> Like I could see her just calling the friend in order to come out, not because she has a crush on her, because it like makes it clear, but also because they had never really planned on calling actual crushes  
> But I also think it’s a convenient ploy to be like “ahaha sike I don’t actually like her” because sis got rejected? “
> 
> Pls leave kudos and comment if you enjoyed (I mean lmk if it was terrible too, feedback is feedback)  
> eyesfadefromgreentogray on tumblr


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